


Friends don't kiss like that

by MermaidsandMermen (SophiaSoames)



Category: SKAM (TV) RPF
Genre: Cuddles, Fluff, Friendship, Friendship/Love, It's just what it is., Kisses, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-18
Updated: 2017-05-18
Packaged: 2018-11-02 03:14:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10935807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SophiaSoames/pseuds/MermaidsandMermen
Summary: A soft little one shot about two friends who just blatantly adore each other. Because they do. And there might be a kiss or two involved. Set over the Gullruten weekend.Smut free (gasp) Plot free and Angst free fluff. That is all.





	Friends don't kiss like that

**Author's Note:**

> I know people react badly to the RPF's in this fandom, but have a little chill people. It is just stories. Fiction. If you don't like the idea of reading about two boys who are friends and might or might not kiss on occasion, then just don't read it. Don't hurl abuse. We are all adults here. 
> 
> My RPF fics in this fandom are all about H and T. Two fictional boys. I do not know anything about the real Tarjei and Henrik, nor do I claim to. 
> 
> I am not a professional writer. I write for fun and to relax. To get all those thoughts in my head out.  
> Some people like to read my ramblings, Some don't . That is absolutly fine. 
> 
> Be kind. Be nice. Always. Tweet me @sophiasoames.

T has a love and hate relationship with strangers asking him questions. With people being in his space. With fans getting to close. He also has a love and hate relationship with people asking him why. He doesn’t know why. Why this and Why that. For God’s sake, he is just trying to grow up without fucking up. Without disappointing himself. He wants so much. He just doesn’t know how to get it without completely messing up his life. 

At least he is having fun. It’s like a boys weekend away with some of his favourite people. 

They have all said that they should have done this ages ago, just gone away and had some mindless fun, away from it all. I mean they have all hung out, they go to the same parties. He sees David every day. But this has just been a blast. And now he is standing here being interviewed on a red carpet (that is actually more pink than red), wearing some ridiculous suit that he had to have someone help him choose (as apparently turning up in your own clothes is a no-no), and H is right by his side fielding questions and just smiling like this is nothing. Like he does this every day. 

T can feel himself blushing. He tries so hard to be chill. To be cool. To say things right and not sound like a complete knob. He doesn’t of course. He says things, things that he will completely cringe at when he watches it back later. Because H will make them watch it. H fucking lives for that shit. Laughing at himself and pointing and squealing and filming it so he can send it to people and post the whole thing on his insta. Because H has no fucking chill. No shame. And T loves him for it. 

‘’You OK?’’ H whispers in his ear. Because H is like that. H is always looking after him. Sorting him out. Fuck he looks after everyone. It’s just who he is and T just nods back. Let’s H push him along the line of waiting reporters. Smiling and shaking hands like he has been doing this for years. H has got this. He fucking rules this. Whilst T is surfing along on sheer adrenaline and willpower, shifting from feeling happy and confident to sweating and feeling like he is about to faint. He doesn’t though. He’s got this too. It’s just easier when he doesn’t let himself think about it. 

He kind of wishes he could be strong like H. Give less fucks. Stand up for himself more and just say NO! 

Because H does. Some of the shit they are asked is just bonkers. Downright rude. And H just grabs his arm and walks away. Rescues him from the inevitable embarrassing gif on Twitter. The ridiculous mis-quotes. Sometimes T doesn’t even know why but he trusts H, trusts that if H thinks it’s not right, then it probably isn't. 

It's not often that H looses focus, but right how H is all uptight and nervous after some seriously dumb-ass question, and it feels good, that T can save him right back. Just a little squeeze of his arm as H shudders against him, because H sometimes needs to ground himself, and T knows. He knows him so well. All he needs is that touch, just a second too long, long enough for some contact. A little support. A lot of love. Because they do love each other. I mean how can they not? 

It’s not like they have known each other all their lives, or had some kind of magical instant connection. It’s nothing like that. They just get on, they work well together. They can laugh, God they can laugh for hours. About nothing. Just lie there on the grass in T’s back garden talking shit and pretending that they are doing work stuff. Researching. Not so much in the last couple of weeks, I mean it’s not like they have had to film anything heavy. Mostly standing around and snogging, which is just hysterical. 

They both love it. I mean, what is not to love? Just being cuddled and kissed for hours on end whilst the lighting people are swearing about the sun streaming through the windows ruining the mood, and the wardrobe guy keeps pulling at H’s jacket, and well then, they take a break and before they know it they have done another day’s work. Money in the bank. Stupid big smile on their faces. 

And so, they kiss. They kiss right there in front of everyone on that stupid kiss-cam thing. Well it wasn’t like they wouldn’t go for them. I mean at the end of the day, this is their gig. Their show. They were nominated for like all the prizes. Has it gone to their heads? Yeah maybe. But what the heck. It made them both smile. And it’s true, they do snog a lot. At parties. When they are out. For fun. Because it makes people smile. It makes the girls squeal. It makes the boys cheer. 

And again, it makes T happy. Well because it is H. And H is one of T’s favourite people. Truly. 

So, the camera pans in and David squeals and Marlon cheers and Sacha whoops down the aisle and H. Well. T can see that little smirk. The way his eyes crinkle. The way he straightens himself. And T just waits. Meets his eye and winks. They know the drill. 

There is laughter bubbling in his veins as he leans in and closes his eyes. Because he fucking lives for this shit. The softness of lips. The strokes of tongues. The way H’s hand curls around his neck. Soft and gentle, but still, very much them.

There is nothing platonic in their kisses. There never was. It was never little pecks full of innocence. 

H had spelt it out the first time they sat down and talked about it. It was all in or nothing. No faking it. No pretending to kiss. None of that half-hearted shit. And T had agreed. Laughed and fist-bumped him right there and then. 

It wasn’t like he hadn’t been kissed before. But he couldn’t lie and say that he is a good kisser, that he is experienced or cocky about it all.

And H just is H. Shrugs his shoulders and leans in. 

So, the first time they kissed had been just like that. In the shitty cafeteria at NRK, with the script on the table in front of them and two empty cups of coffee on the side. 

H had his eyes closed. T remembers that. So, he closed his too and let himself feel. Let himself be kissed. Opening to the tongue that was gently prodding his lips. Letting his hand grab H’s neck. Then just going for it. 

When they pulled away H had just laughed. Said ‘’Wow!’’ and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. And T had beamed at him, blushing to the point that his face felt like it was on fire.

‘’Was it OK?’’ T had asked. Like it mattered. Like it hadn’t been. He knows full well what that was.

Because it’s not like T is getting anything elsewhere, and that, that was just, yep. Wow. 

It’s still hot kissing H in front of an audience of hundreds, even though T’s face is burning up and H is squeezing his shoulder. Leaning back with that cocky demeanour that only H can get away with. 

‘’I bet we’ll break the internet with that.’’ H whispers as the camera pans away from them.  
‘’We will never hear the end of it now, will we? T laughs back. 

Which is true. They get asked about it all evening. Did they know? No. Did they mind? Fuck no. Are they a real couple? Nah.

Not that they don’t play around with it. Ship themselves. Let it be part of who they are. H calls T his boyfriend. And H’s number might just be listed in T's phone under ‘’My Beloved’’. H knows. He is the one who did it. Just like T is listed in H’s phone as ‘’The boyfriend’’ With a love heart emoji. 

The night passes in a blur of alcohol, sweat and camera flashes. Dancing and screaming. And the NRK appointed alcohol guardian (Also more commonly known as David’s Dad) does an amazing job of keeping them adequately sober for the ride back to the hotel. I mean T only stumbles a little I the lobby, and Marlon has lost his bow tie somewhere, whilst H is drunk. He is fucking out of it. Leaning over T’s shoulder and talking a load of gibberish.

He tells T that he loves him. That he fucking does. That it’s true. That he loves him to bits. 

Well T says it back, just a little more sensibly. Because he loves his H so fucking much right back.

H is asleep splayed out on the hotel bed in his shirt before T even manages to get his shoes off. T tries, he fucking tries to get H’s trousers off but the guy weighs a ton, and anyway he looks cute, snoring with all that fringe covering his eyes. 

So, T just brushes his teeth, gets the ridiculous suit hung over a chair, finds a t-shirt to wear, and curls up next to him. It’s too hot for a blanket, and the room is spinning just a little. So, he curls up and wraps his arms around his boy, and H’ arms find their way awkwardly slung around T’s waist. 

Because the night was just that. Intense. And now T is tired. He is tired and weary and just a little bit overwhelmed. And H has got his back. He always has his back. 

So, H pulls him in and T rolls over, lets himself find the snug little place where he fits against H’s longer frame. Back flush against chest. Head curled in around the arms that are holding him tight. Fingers entwining over T’s chest. 

There is nothing wrong with a bit of drunk spooning. It’s not the first time and it will not be the last. They will laugh about it in the morning. They always do. 

Then it’s Sunday night and all is back to normal in the mundane life of T, age 17. Because it’s all good and well being an international superstar with millions of adoring fans, but in the house of T, it’s still all about taking the laundry out of the dryer, hovering the hallway, walking the dog and staying the hell away from his brothers and their annoying friends. 

So instead, he sits in his room in the basement and googles auditions. Tries to do some studying. Posts some juvenile shit on Jodel that he knows full well will make it onto Twitter within minutes. Not that he cares. It’s his life. And he is bored. A little bit sad. Very much feeling lonely. 

At least he has peace and quiet down here, his own big room and his own entrance at the back of the house, where he can sneak out for a cheeky cigarette when he feels like it. Not that he smokes much, but sometimes a guy needs to rebel. And it’s not like T is the kind of superstar who owns a yacht and smashes up hotel rooms for fun. 

Well there isn’t even a knock on the door, but H just walks in. Well that is what he is like. He walks in like he owns the place and toes his shoes off by the door, drops his jacket and throws himself on the bed. The bed that creaks and jumps a few inches across the floor as H’s weight hits. 

‘’Hi’’ T blurts out. Stupid smile on his face. Because this is a fucking lovely surprise. 

‘’Just thought we needed to hang out more.’’ H says. Doing that shoulder thing. Smiling that smile that you just have to smile back at. Because doing anything but would just be downright rude.

‘’So, it had nothing to do with you missing me because you hadn’t seen me for the last 12 hours or something?’’ T says back. Letting himself wink before crawling onto the bed and laying down next to him. Both of them on their backs. Staring at the ceiling.

‘’Nope’’ H replies. Shuffling over so that he is lying on his side. Facing him. Doing that sincere look that he does that makes T birth butterflies in his stomach. He can’t help it. The guy just affects him like that. Cheeky sod. 

‘’So, what do you need baby?’’ T is smiling. His chest jerking a little with held-back laughter. 

‘’You obviously needed a cuddle posting that crap on Jodel. And I am man enough to sort you out with one.’’ H giggles back, pulling and tugging at T’s arms until they are all snuggled up. T’s head on H’s chest. Arms tightly wound around each others bodies. T’s leg over H’s hip. Both of them smiling. Laughing softly. 

‘’Better? Do you need a kiss too?’’ H is asking, face full of dimples. And T is pouting. He is joking, of course, but at the same time he is not. He never jokes about kisses. Kissing is serious shit.

H doesn’t wait for a reply. He leans in and kisses. Kisses like he means it. Hard and heady with his eyes closed and his fingers grasping T’s waist just a little too tight, whist T’s hand is making finger shaped marks on H’s neck and their tongues seem to live a life of their own. 

H doesn’t break the kiss until T starts to laugh. 

‘’Good friends don’t kiss like that H’’ T is smiling so hard that his cheeks are aching. 

‘’They fucking do, good friends kiss exactly like that’’ H replies. Then he winks. Places a very small little peck on T’s nose before grabbing the remote control for the TV and flicking it on. 

Maybe they do, T thinks. Maybe good friends kiss exactly like that. Well what the fuck does it matter. He snuggles up closer. Places a little peck on H’s cheek. 

It doesn’t matter really. It’s nothing more than that. It really isn’t.

They are just friends. Really good friends.


End file.
